COD Oneshots / shorts

Med-Bay (Soap / reader) nsfw

Summary - Soap keeps landing himself in your office every few days. At first, you didn't mind his visits, after all, you were just helping a soldier. But, after this routine becoming far too regular, you confronted him.

Warnings - mention of injuries, medical issues and help, arguing, smut

You were scratching away at your clipboard when Soap walked in. He was limping, not an uncommon symptom in this line of work.

He already knew what to do, setting himself on the bed silently, a stupid smile spreading over his face.

"What did you do this time, sir?" You asked him in a teasing tone. "PT can't be that dangerous, can it?" Your smile was a sly one.

Soap rolled his eyes. "Tripped over somethin' while runnin." He pointed down at his ankle, which you would need to inspect soon. "These damn recruits keep leavin their shit around." He was trying to make light of the situation.

You take note on your clipboard. Soap had gained an extensive record since you became a medic. According to his records, before you were there, he seemed to stay pretty safe.

Excessive frequency of injuries. Possible concern for Captain Price, brief on situation asap. You scribbled the words quickly.

"Where would you say the pain is worst?" You ask, flipping to a diagnosis sheet.

He took a pause. "I reckon my left ankle. Hurts like hell." Though he obviously knew what to do next, having been in your office so frequently, he waited for your instructions.

You pointed at his leg, "shoe off, roll up your pant leg." You tried to make yourself sound sympathetic, despite being a bit annoyed at him. You marked where he was hurt on the chart. "Wanna tell me exactly what happened? Just for legal purposes." You shot him an aggressive glance.

A smile. He began talking as he rolled up his pant leg and took off his shoe. "I was doin PT, obviously. One of those daft fuckers left his bag on the track. Damn near twisted my neck fallin over it."

For someone who was a decorated soldier, top of his rank, Soap must be the clumsiest man you'd ever met. "You weren't paying attention." You accused.

He gasped, faking a hurt feeling. "I would never be so reckless, Medic." Soap laughed again. "Can't be all my fault, kid left his shit where it shouldn't a been."

He sucked in through his teeth as you inspected his ankle. It was already swelling, maybe he wasn't faking it this time. "This is a pretty good sprain, MacTavish." You weren't being as gentle as you usually were with him. "I need you off of this for at the very least three weeks."

Soap looked at you like you were bat shit insane. "Fuck off." He spat. "I'm a soldier, I can't be down that long." His aggression didn't scare you. In the end, he was at your mercy.

You wrote more notes on your board. "It's rather easy to just not trip over stuff. I highly recommend it." You were teasing him. "I'm going to wrap this ankle for you, but you have some care instructions I'll write out for you."

You began wrapping the ankle, finally being gentle with him again. He much preferred this side of you. "In addition to being off this for three weeks, I need to ice it daily. You will check in with me every week. If it heals before the three weeks is up, you'll be good to go." You made quick work of his leg.

A deep sign left your lungs. "If anything about your condition changes," you spoke, "and I mean anything, you come talk to me. Understood, soldier?"

Soap blushed a bit at the commanding tone. "Yes, Medic." He was good at following orders, especially if they were from you. "How long should I be icing it?" He asked.